


Nothing in the World

by illmatchtheminrenown



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Much Ado About Nothing (2012), Much Ado About Nothing - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illmatchtheminrenown/pseuds/illmatchtheminrenown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedick, a witty playboy and Beatrice, an equally witty woman, meet in a bar and are instantly drawn to each other. But under that banter, there's a dark undercurrent of memories they can't quite remember but can certainly feel. Why are these two drawn together, and what do these flashes mean? Not quite a crossover with Much Ado About Nothing (2013), more of a melding of two Whedon 'verses to find a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Deaths and a Bar

_"I'm not scared. I'm not scared." She repeated the words like a mantra, partly to convince herself, but more for the sake of the man with his arms wrapped around her, pressing her body close to his, as if by holding her tightly enough he could stop the terrible, painful process that was destroying her from within. He'd loved her for so long, he'd just said he loved her before he knew her, as if they were destined for each other._

_But if this was destiny, well, then she owed karma and payback an apology, because destiny was the real bitch._

_The darkness was coming, quicker and quicker. She tried to whisper one more thing, tried to tell her brave, wonderful, clever prince- the unlikeliest knight in shining armor there ever was- how much he meant to her, but for once, her fear got the best of her._

_"Please," she whispered his name, "why can't I stay?"_

_Then all was darkness._

____________________________________

_"Yes, thank you, yes." He hated himself for this moment of weakness, for asking what he swore he never would. But he was dying. He knew it, she knew it. And the last thing he wanted to see was the face he had loved most, a love that had almost made all the pain and heartache in his relatively short life worth it. He knew it wasn't really her, even as he told her how much he'd missed her, but some tiny part of him whispered that it was, that whatever remnants of the woman he'd loved had come to the forefront and were manifesting to aid him in his final moments._

_He could feel it, the life seeping out of him. But he had to hold on, to say one more thing._

_"I love you," he managed to say, his last thoughts focused completely on the greatest love he had ever known._

_Then all was darkness._

_________________________________

Benedick lounged against the bar of the classiest club in the city, thoughtfully watching the comings and goings of the people around him, flirting casually with the occasional beauty who walked by, and watching his supposed wingman make a well-meaning fool of himself. As the handsome man took another sip, the friend in question strode over, slid onto the stool next to him, and signaled the bartender for another drink.

"Struck out again?" Benedick asked, only a little mocking. At the other man's grunt of assent, he smiled. "Perhaps you ought to switch to matchmaking, instead of searching for a lady yourself, for then you might claim successes to your good name." His fair-haired friend glared at him as he laughed. "Peace, Pedro, I'm only kidding. Well, mostly." Pedro shrugged, taking a sizable drink from his glass.

"Alright, Casanova, if I were a matchmaking...maker of...matches..." he lost his train of thought temporarily, a side effect of the combined alcohol and rejection in his system, "then you, my friend, would be the very first I'd...match..." he finished lamely, but with a challenge in his voice.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed it is! And would you deny your lord this amusement?" Pedro demanded of his clever lieutenant, who had no answer. "I thought not. So, how about..." Pedro's gaze scanned the club. His eyes fell on a pair of young women at a table a little ways away. One was blonde, very pretty and smiling. But the other was the one who had drawn Pedro's attention: a slim woman with wavy brown hair, delicate features, and a smile that suggested a private joke you desperately wanted to be part of. "-her?" Pedro gestured at the woman subtly, allowing Benedick to notice her for the first time.

For a brief moment, the most loquacious man in the club was struck silent. She was beautiful, that was for sure, but there was something else about her, something that made him feel like he knew her already, although he would certainly remember having met her before.

"By this day, she's a fair lady!" Benedick murmured, forgetting himself and staring unabashedly. "I'm gonna go talk to her. I should go talk to her, right? I'm gonna go talk to her." Pedro grinned behind his back; this was a decidedly different side to his friend, and he had to admit he was enjoying it thoroughly. Straightening his jacket and mussing his hair just a little, Benedick casually loped over to the woman whose friend had just left her with a giggle.

"Excuse me, lady, but do you have the time?" he asked, inwardly cursing himself for such a banal line but outwardly maintaining his composure. She looked him up and down for a brief moment over the rim of her glass before replying coolly.

"The time, yes. The inclination, less likely." Benedick couldn't conceal a grin- a woman who could banter as good as she got was his kind of woman!

"Oh-ho! Well met, my Lady Tongue!" he teased, sweeping her an exaggerated bow. "Sharp as a knife she cuts me!"

"Yes," she replied dryly, "and a knife dulls when forced to cut too much thick meat and gristle. And so farewell." With that, she slid off her stool and began to move away. As she turned, she had to conceal a little smile at having a handsome and apparently clever man on the run. There was something about him that drew her to him. Perhaps it was the scruffy look in such contrast with the pretty boys populating the club, or the merry, thoughtful glint in his very blue eyes. Or perhaps it was something else. Either way, she had a feeling this was the most fun she had had in ages, so she let him stop her.

"But a knife only stays sharp when brought to match with steel of equal strength, does it not?" he challenged.

"And so you suggest steel should meet steel?"

"Perhaps it should." Just then, Pedro sidled over and clapped a hand on Benedick's shoulder, oblivious to his friend's slight groan at his joining them.

"Is my friend here bothering you, lady?" he asked amiably. Recognizing the powerful man, she simply shrugged.

"Not at all, we were just speaking of knives and steel."

"Speaking?" Pedro raised his eyebrows with a chuckle. "Then you must beware, lady, for once Signor Benedick begins to speak, it would take an army to make him stop! He has quite the mouth, this one!" This time, it was the woman whose eyebrows raised mischievously.

"Is that so, Signor Benedick?" she asked, her tone laded with sarcastic meaning. He grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

"So I'm told."

"To your face, perhaps," she conceded, "but to your back-"

"My back is equally admired as my face, I assure you." Pedro watched this volley of wits like one would watch a tennis match, whipping back and forth and only catching about half of it. "Come, lady, this is hardly fair. You know my name, but I have yet to know yours."

"Beatrice. My name is Beatrice."

"Well then. Beatrice. What do you think? Shall we continue this discussion further?" Beatrice considered for a moment. She was bored, and every other man in the place was almost unbearably slow compared to her- even Benedick's charmingly oblivious friend. But a challenge, a real challenge of wits- now that was an exciting prospect she couldn't resist. Beatrice finished her drink, then tucked her arm into Benedick's (to his well-concealed delight).

"All right, then, Benedick. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the idea for this story came to me with all the fandom giddiness over Alexis Denisof and Amy Acker playing Benedick/Beatrice in Whedon's Much Ado. I figured that there are some gaps in B/B's backstory that could be explained quite interestingly with a supernatural twist. Plus, I wanted the challenge of capturing that style of witty banter- how did I do? I'm sure you can all see why this story is categorized where it is (as opposed to in the Shakespeare section), but I hope you'll come along on the ride with me and see what twists and turns I have in store for these two. I would much appreciate some reviews to get me started and let me know what you think of this beginning. Thanks!
> 
> ~C


	2. The Next Mornings

_Her eyes opened to see the sunlight seeping into the room- a very vaguely familiar room. And she was most definitely not in her own bed. Then a slight snore from beside her reminded her of where she was and why, and a smile broke over her face at the memory of the previous night. A kiss, long delayed but all the better for it. And when it became obvious that neither of them felt like stopping anytime soon, they had taken things to his apartment. As she watched, his eyes fluttered open and he smiled up at her._

_"Morning, sunshine," he murmured, his accent thicker as he was still waking up, and reaching over to place a lingering kiss on her lips. Pulling back, he could hardly believe his luck at waking up next to this woman he'd loved for so long._

_"Sunshine?" she asked, teasing him._

_"What? You are my sunshine, my only-" he began to half-sing before she cut him off._

_"Oh, no. Sweetheart, you can do a lot of things very well. That didn't come out right-" she added as her book-man smirked at her. "My point," she continued, dodging an attempted tickle, "is that singing is not one of them."_

_"Alright." Stealing another kiss, he reached over for his glasses from his nightstand so that he could see until he put his contacts in. At this, she couldn't help a smile: with his hair rumpled and his glasses on, he suddenly looked much like the slightly awkward man she'd first met. "What do you think? Shall we give the office something to talk about this morning? Come in together?" She grinned, standing up and reaching for her discarded clothes._

_"Well, unless you drive me home so I can change first, somehow I don't think coming in together will be the giveaway." Secretly, she didn't mind at all if the whole world knew. She could see the smile that spread over his entire face, somehow wiping away all of the worry and melancholy of the past few years and replacing it with a boyish joy that reminded her just how young he really was, older and worn as he might seem sometimes._

_And for his part? He'd never been happier._

________________________________

With a start, Beatrice's eyes flew open as she took in the unfamiliar room with a strangely calm gaze. It was...comfortable, in some way. And, oddly enough, so was the arm of the man beside her, thrown over her waist as they slept. In an instinctively tender gesture, she reached out and very delicately ran her fingers through his hair. The slight pressure was enough to wake Benedick, his sleepy eyes slowly opening and a contented smile spreading over his face.

"Good morning, sunshine."

"Sunshine?" she asked mockingly.

"Yes. For you are a female Apollo, a goddess of light," he praised her melodramatically.

"Then are you a nymph, Signor Benedick?"

"Nay, I am no Daphne, for I could not run from you if I tried," he replied. At this inversion of their barbed banter into something sweet, Beatrice couldn't help allowing herself a smile.

"So it wasn't a dream. I had feared it might be," he commented lazily, reaching up to cup her cheek and noticing as he did so how very happy and at ease he was.

"A good dream?"

"The best." Benedick reached over to kiss her insistently. As she slowly broke away, Beatrice frowned slightly, trying to remember something. The frown did not go unnoticed by the man beside her.

"What's wrong?" She shook her head as if to clear it and summoned a smile.

"Nothing. It's nothing. Just...you mentioned dreams, and I could've sworn...Never mind." She grinned and kissed him again, this time wrapping her arms securely around his neck to anchor him closely as he responded most enthusiastically. With a groan, he pulled back.

"God, I would love to spend the whole day here with you-"

"Ambitious. Perhaps a little overly so," Beatrice interrupted with a smirk. Suddenly, she found herself pinned beneath Benedick.

"Do you _ever_ stop talking?"

"If I recall, you were unbothered by it last night," she volleyed back.

"I'll take that as a yes. Then I suppose I shall have to stop your mouth myself." With that, he leaned down to cover her lips with his in a particularly long and deep kiss. Then, pulling away regretfully, commented, "We should get up now, shouldn't we?" Equally regretful, Beatrice nodded and he rolled over and off her. Benedick reached over habitually towards his nightstand for his-

 _Wait- what? I've never worn glasses in my life._ A confused Benedick stared at his nightstand for a moment, half expecting glasses to be there and half wondering why he had reached for something nonexistent. _"Shall we give the office something to talk about?"_ The words rose to his mind as if in a memory, something so very similar and yet different from this morning. And a sudden flash of a heightened joy. Not the contented happiness that filled his heart now, but something deeper, something more, something like the feeling of finally attaining something long striven for and longed for and finding it to be ten times better than imagined.

"I can't help wondering, Beatrice, if this might be something we would want to repeat?" He phrased it carefully, more carefully than he chose the words for his razor-sharp barbs and witticisms, so that the lady could interpret how she chose: an offer of well-matched intellectual banter followed by something else well-matched, or something more. Beatrice hesitated. He was handsome, and the only person she'd ever met who could match her wits. And that was quite a turn-on. But to be one of _those_ couples, sweet and boring and domestic... she couldn't stand the thought. There was something about him, though, and before she could rationalize her way out of it or reply with a sarcastic retort, the word "Yes" had slipped from her mouth. Benedick's eyes widened.

"Really? I mean," he collected himself, "someone so high above me deigns to mix with a mere mortal?" he teased. Beatrice stepped closer, watching his eyes follow her and a slightly endearing confusion break through his casual demeanor. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him, feeling him respond in kind.

"Clear enough for you?", she asked, unsure as to why she was so nervous. _He must have taught himself not to interpret anything I did as romantic, not after... After... But we just met last..._ Beatrice's inexplicable train of thought was interrupted by a bright smile from the man inches from her, and words that somehow seemed exactly right for the moment as their lips met again.

"Not even close."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two mornings-after, two or three flashes of emotion that confuse our modern-day Benedick and Beatrice. A note on the Apollo/Daphne dialogue: Daphne was a nymph who was shot with a lead arrow so that she would hate Apollo who loved her. Hatred mixed with love...sound familiar to these two? :) One thing I'm sure you'll have noticed is that I added in my own headcanon as to Wes and Fred's relationship status. Considering how long Wesley had loved her, and rewatching the scene at the end of "Smile Time" (but keeping in mind Fred's crack about "finally" getting Wes in her room in "A Hole in the World"), I found it quite likely that this is what happened immediately following that episode. I hope you're enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I hope you'll stick around and see how the two timelines intersect and bleed through, and I hope most of all that you'll tell me what you think by clicking that magic little comments button below :)


	3. At the Ballet

_He had learned, among a million other things, a bit about art in the course of his studies. Mostly useful things, the history and the meanings, things that might come in handy in research. But, he mused as he watched the dance unfolding before him, the true beauty of it had escaped him. Up until now. They learned to appreciate the skill and odd grace of a fight, of all the different ways to attack and defend and move the body. But not in a way that was meant to be beautiful. This, though, this was different. This was romance and longing and a hundred different things._

_Or maybe that was just him, trying very hard to force himself to watch the ballet and not keep sneaking glances at the young woman to his side. She was stunning tonight. He always thought she looked beautiful, but dressed for the formal event, with her hair swept up and her clever, expressive brown eyes unblocked by glasses, she was a star._

_His mind drifted without even realizing it. Suddenly, the figures before him weren't the lithe ballerina and her leading man, but the delicate yet strong woman at his side, and he himself. He was not graceful- unsurprisingly- but she had all the grace of one who had been training for this moment all her life. He could almost feel her body in his arms, the slightness of her waist, the pressure of her hands. And then they drew closer and closer together, for the end of the dance, their faces only inches apart... He snapped to, furtively glancing to make sure no one noticed his sudden lapse in awareness. As if of its own accord, his hand slowly began creeping towards hers. She was a princess._

_And he, he realized suddenly as he jerked his hand back, he was no knight in shining armor, but as far from one as a man could be._

________________________________

Benedick grinned to himself as he knocked on Beatrice's door, one hand behind his back. The door opened and the lady herself emerged, looking sleepy and still in her silky blue robe.

"Awake at this hour, Benedick? Have day and night reversed?" She managed a half-hearted jab despite having only just woken up and being very glad to see the man at her door. He smiled excitedly, letting it slide without any retort.

"Mock me as you will, but I assure you, I had good reason to rise at this ungodly hour. Look." Pulling his hand from behind his back, he displayed a pair of tickets to Beatrice. Seeing her confusion, he explained, "The ballet is performing tonight, and I was wondering if you would do me the honor of accompanying me?"

Beatrice was momentarily taken aback as nostalgia washed over her. "I loved the ballet, when I was a little girl. The first one I ever saw was _The Nutcracker_. I remember the Mouse King terrified me!" She glanced at the tickets, then at Benedick, whose face wore an expression of softened joy as he watched her reaction. "How did you know?"

"You said so, once," he replied simply. It took a moment for that to sink in, but when it did, Beatrice looked up at him, eyes shining. "And you thought I never listened to you," he teased, pulling her into a warm hug. After a few moments, she pulled away.

"In that case, I have a lot of things to do today. And you could use with a little personal grooming yourself, Marlboro Man," she said, affectionately running her hand along his stubbly cheek. With a kiss to her forehead- followed by one on the lips, as if he couldn't resist- he left her with a promise to pick her up for dinner.

True to his word, Benedick arrived precisely on time. When he knocked, there was a scuffling noise, then Beatrice's voice floated out.

"Benedick? Is that you? You're annoyingly on time again!"

He grinned, calling back, "It's me. Can I-?"

"Yes, it's open, come in." As he entered, she called down the hall again. "I'll only be another minute." Benedick glanced around, unsure as to why he was feeling quite so awkward. Just as he was about to sit down, he heard her again, this time much closer.

"Well? What do you think?"

Benedick leapt back to his feet and turned to face her. And for the second time, just like the first night they met, he was rendered completely speechless. Her hair was swept up into an elegant mass of curls, fastened here and there with small sparkling clips. The dress she wore suited her perfectly: a deep burgundy with glittering beading, in a style that emphasized her petite shape and fair skin.

"You look..." _A sudden flash of hurt seared through him, as he watched the beautiful woman in the wine-colored dress kiss the other man. The other man, not him. She'd chosen, and he should've known it wouldn't be him._ Benedick stumbled just slightly, the images all wrong but the emotions all too real. Then, realizing Beatrice was still waiting for a reply, he managed a smile and finished the sentence. "...beautiful. Gone is my Lady Tongue, and in her place a lady worthy of the envy of a princess."

"Never fear, my tongue is sharp as ever. And it would seem I have found a new weapon, have I not?" she smirked at his still-agape expression. Benedick smiled genuinely this time as he offered her his arm.

"A deep wound, for certain, yet I know the balm that will heal," he replied, stealing a kiss as she turned her head. "Now, shall we?"

_____________________________

The ballet had been lovely, and Benedick experienced no more painful flashes during the evening. And afterwards, they had returned to his place for the night. Now, curled up comfortably with the woman he was falling for- falling much harder than he liked to admit- the half-asleep man let his mind wander to the inexplicable things that had crossed his mind ever since they had begun their relationship. But before he could think very long, a low, anguished noise startled him out of his thoughts.

_He was always there, this shadowy presence quietly doing what had to be done, allowing her to live as normal a life as possible even if it killed him to let her. How could she have been so blind? And then, then, much later, there was pain, a slow and insistent pain from within her very soul. He read to her, sat with her, comforted her as best he could, reassuring her that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. But at some point, she knew it was useless. And that pain was nothing compared to the loss she felt, the cruel trick life was playing. She was happy, really happy at last, with someone who knew her darkness and loved her for it as much as he loved her nerdy sweetness. She tried not to cry out, but she couldn't help it, the pain was too much, and-_

Beatrice cried out suddenly, her eyes squeezed tight in anguish, then flying open as someone shook her awake. _It's him, my dream, it's-_

"Beatrice! Beatrice, wake up, you're having a nightmare. Shh, shh, it's me, just me," Benedick soothed as she came to consciousness and stared at him with the strangest expression.

"Benedick," she breathed, a hitch in her voice. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping his arms completely around her and resting his head on hers as she clung to his chest. "The dream, you were- but you weren't... Oh God!" Benedick held her while she steadied her breathing, and they finally fell asleep like that, wrapped so closely together they were nearly the same person, into the first dreamless sleep either had had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff chapter, but with a darker ending indicative of things to come. This one was a mini tribute, of course, to "Waiting in the Wings," mostly because the deleted-scene Fresley dream ballet was too cute to pass up. With more flashes of their past painfully intruding, how long can Benedick and Beatrice's relationship last this way? Thanks so much to my reviewers and to the lovely folks on Tumblr who have linked to this fic. The review button below would love to be clicked :) See you next chapter!


	4. Nightmares

Time passed, and Benedick and Beatrice continued to grow closer. Eventually, there came a time when they spent more nights in the same bed than apart. But it wasn't all perfect. The more time they spent together, the closer the pair became, the worse the nightmares got. Rarely was there a night in which one or the other didn't wake up in the middle of the night, terrified and with an awful, sorrowful ache in their heart. No matter how much the other tried to comfort them, that gnawing feeling- almost like a very painful grief- just wouldn't entirely disappear.

_He was losing consciousness quickly, the blood flowing from the long, thin wound on his neck. Logically, he knew he had very little time. And regrets, all of them, flashed through his head. All the people he'd cared about, no matter how much he might deny it. There was a blonde girl, face filled with disdain for him- she never knew how much he admired her bravery and wished he was more like that. An older man, who despite his unconventional affection for his charge, was somehow more excellent than the rest of their council put together. And the people he knew now, the team that had taken him in and would have to be the ones to find him. He had failed them all; he saw it clearly now. And if only he'd had the chance, perhaps he would've-_

Benedick woke up with a start, hand to his throat. _Well, that's a new one,_ he thought as he tried to get his breathing back to normal. More often than not, his nightmares featured a woman who both was and wasn't Beatrice. _He attacked her, he didn't mean to, it wasn't him, and in the split-second moment before she knocked him out, the full horror of what it was making him do washed over him._ That one was bad, but it was nothing compared to the intense grief of the nightmare he most feared. _There was nothing left to be done. He had failed her, failed again and again but this time was different, because he lov- he could barely say the word to himself. And he held her, as if irrationally hoping that by wrapping his arms around her he could protect her a little longer, hold back the pain a little longer. Only when she asked him, plaintively, if he could have loved her, did he finally say the words out loud, that she had walked into his heart the moment they found her in that other dimension and had stayed there ever since. Even that didn't seem sufficient for what he felt for her. It was as if she had been meant for him, meant to remind him that sweetness and goodness and a very quiet sort of courage did exist, and that even someone as scarred and screwed-up as him could love someone and be loved in return. It killed him to watch her in pain, as surely as the thing was killing her. Then it was over. And he was never entirely whole (or entirely sober) again._

Benedick couldn't take it anymore. He had to make the nightmares stop- all this pain should end when the dreams did, yet it burrowed its way into his mind and his heart and haunted him even when awake.

____________________________

Beatrice rolled over, tossing in her sleep as dreams haunted her again and again. She'd hoped they might get better with time, especially with Benedick's comforting arms around her nearly every night, but if anything they'd gotten worse. _She was trapped, the scribbles on the walls her only link to sanity and yet driving her crazy at the same time. Even long after she was rescued, she couldn't quite shake that particular habit. In her dreams, they closed in on her, swarming like bees until she woke up screaming. And all the horrors, so many awful things. People she cared about, trusted, loved even, turning into monsters who attacked her. And then there was the fear, the absolute terror of being consumed from the inside out, and trying so hard, so very hard, not to show it because the people around her, the people who had come to be her family, would be in so much pain too. The arms that held her were so loving and comforting- why hadn't she taken advantage of that earlier? "I'm with him, I'm with him!" she begged, pleading with the force that was eating away at her, drawing on the thing that was finally making her so very happy. She tried to focus on the good memories, the calm between the storms when they weren't a group of completely, utterly damaged people fighting unthinkable evil, but simply a family: brothers and sisters, lovers, parents and children. And when her eyes finally closed, the darkness was almost a relief- and that frightened her even more._

But there was one dream that was the worst of all. _She was there, but she wasn't really there. Every moment the other was present, she disappeared a tiny bit more. But there was a battle, and suddenly it was her eyes that saw him, the man who was Benedick but wasn't, bleeding and barely conscious on the floor. The other retreated, allowing her to come forward and to return the comfort he had once given her- whether he believed it was her or not. And the grief that overwhelmed her, a grief she had never known before. That grief, so very human, with the pure strength of the other, manifested in a single drive to battle, to finish what the man she loved had started._

_That was it, that was the tipping point, the grief that had overwhelmed her, it had reversed the fading away, it had allowed her to-_

Beatrice woke up, gasping and feeling as if she'd been yanked away from something important, some revelation. As she gazed at the sleeping man next to her, a strange fear settled in her stomach, a fear that there was still more pain to come.

_________________________

The pair were about to head out for the day, when Beatrice decided to broach the subject that had been on her mind for a little while. As Benedick fiddled with doing his tie, she approached him with unusual nerves fluttering in her stomach.

"Benedick?"

"Hmm? Oh, dammit!" he cursed as the tie once again slipped free of the knot. She smiled.

"Some well-dressed man you are. Can't even tie your own tie. Here, let me." Gently, Beatrice turned him to face her so she could knot the tie properly. "There you go." Benedick grinned, then picked up the book he'd been reading the night before from where it had fallen on the floor, trying to hide it from her view. At this, Beatrice was momentarily distracted.

"Reading in bed again, book-man?" she teased. A strange look crossed his face, and to cover, he reached for his jacket. Her face fell.

"You're just gonna go, aren't you?" He looked at her, surprised.

"Beatrice-"

"Haven't you been... sensing anything lately... about me... coming from me? Uh... didn't occur to you that... something might have changed? That—I'm looking at you in a different— Oh, screw it." With that, Beatrice reached up and, taking Benedick's face in both her hands, kissed him, trying to put the growing feelings she had discovered into that kiss.

"Umm..." he murmured as she drew back.

"That was a signal, okay? Was that...clear enough for you?" Benedick couldn't help it, he grinned as he looked into her eyes and saw the emotions he'd long felt reflected there. Drawing her closer, he dropped his jacket and smiled against her lips.

"Not even close." Benedick wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again, this time more passionately. And somehow, even though they'd been far more intimate in the usual sense of the word, this felt like the most intimate and personal experience they'd had together.

And then it returned: the pain, the grief, the aches, more searing than ever. _Impossible joy followed by unutterable grief made the grief even worse, even more unbearable. It was like having his heart burned out of his chest. The happier they had become, the more painful the loss and sadness that followed._

Benedick tore himself away from the kiss with a gasp of pain. Looking startled, Beatrice searched his face, ignoring the slight gnawing feeling in her own chest.

"Benedick?" she asked again, worried when he didn't respond. He couldn't look at her, couldn't handle all the fears and the pain anymore.

"I'm sorry. I...I can't do this." He grabbed his jacket again, then his book, and went to the door. Hesitating, he turned and looked at her face one more time. She looked so young and hurt and confused- not at all like the feisty, sharp-tongued woman he'd first met, but someone else entirely.

"I'm sorry." The door closed, leaving Beatrice to sink onto the bed with tears forming in her eyes.

Benedick drove down the block, but once he was out of view of her building, pulled over and turned off the car, put his head in his hands, and allowed the sobs he'd been choking back to finally surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter than usual, I know, but I had some ground to cover; hence the longer time to post. So now we know why Benedick once "lent [his heart] to [Beatrice] awhile" and why Beatrice tells Don Pedro she gave him "a double heart for his single one," to quote the original play. Of course, the Fresley text in this chapter comes from that swoon-worthy scene at the end of "Smile Time." Also, I felt it was time to introduce a few nods to Wes's time on _Buffy_ \- and I have my reasons. This chapter also includes a hint at the resolution to the reincarnation thing. And now they become the cynical pair we know so well. What will finally trigger all their memories? Stay tuned- only a few chapters to go!


	5. Is Not That Strange?

Time went on. Months, even a year or so, passed. The clever lady Beatrice lost none of her wit but gained an edge of cynicism and disdain for all men- Benedick most of all. All the things that had once charmed her about him came to only frustrate her further. And no man she met could ever match her wits or measure up to the standards she needed in a partner. And so, she declared, she should never marry. "Thus goes everyone but I," she commented, with only a hint of melancholy as she fondly watched her favorite cousin and her new fiancé. And the nightmares, the occasional sense of deja vu that tickled at the back of her mind? If she noticed it consciously, she never showed it.

For Benedick's part, he had learned his lesson from the past. After his doomed romance with Beatrice, the dashing man threw himself into the service of his lord and friend Don Pedro, enjoying the company of women in passing yet studiously avoiding any real attachment. Without genuine affection, he reasoned, there could be no grief in proportion to a great love, no pain in parting. The nightmares mostly stopped, but there were still nights, here and there, when he would awake in a sudden terror, tears in his eyes or a strange accent on his tongue, and had to take a few breaths to remind himself who he was. No woman could hold his attention for long. And Beatrice, with whom he was still forced to interact on occasion due to her family's prominence, was no more than a sharp-tongued thorn in his side: the only person who could match his cleverness but also the only woman who could needle him to no end. It reached a point where neither could really remember what had made them choose to be together in the first place.

And then, unbeknownst to them, their friends saw what they could not and began plotting, Don Pedro leading the way. He knew of their past, of course, but what he didn't know was what had separated them in the first place. How could he know that flashes of another life, of unspeakable grief and pain, had been the real catalyst in driving them apart? But despite this, despite the care they both took not to care, their friends' plotting got to them.

"What was it you told me of today, that your niece Beatrice was in love with Signor Benedick?" Benedick nearly fell over in shock as his friend Pedro's voice floated out of the nearby house. Rolling, tumbling, and creeping around the glass doors, he listened incredulously as his friends expounded on her apparent love for him. _It's not possible. Not after everything, not after what I did._ The thoughts seemed vaguely familiar, but he pushed that aside as he eavesdropped further and the memories of what it was like to be with Beatrice came flooding back into his mind. _The late nights, sitting up with a glass of wine and talking so fast no one else would have been able to keep up. Waking up with her hair across his shoulder. A wall of flame and a stolen kiss- no, not this again!_ Benedick tore his mind free from the now-familiar scene from his haunting dreams, but was unable to as effectively tear his heart free. It was hers- it always had been. If she could still love him after all this, there was no one else who could ever be his match. "I will be horribly in love with her!" he declared to no one in particular.

"But are you sure that Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely?" The aforementioned woman tripped and landed harshly as the words floated in from the next room. Ducking under a countertop to eavesdrop further, she listened in mounting disbelief as her cousin and friend talked at length about how much Benedick- _Benedick_ \- loved her still. _After the way he ended things- how can this be?_ But the longer she listened, the more she remembered how safe, how completely right, she had felt when she and Benedick had been...whatever they had been.

"Benedick," she murmured to herself.

______________________________

Beatrice sat by the window, devastated and staring aimlessly outside. Her cousin, wronged; her uncle, unsure what to belief; her friends, split down the middle. Even as she sensed the entrance of another person, she could not bear to face anyone- not even when she heard the longed-for voice cut the silence.

"Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while?" Benedick entered, speaking as gently as he could. He had never been able to bear seeing her cry, and this was no exception.

"Yea," she answered, wiping away tears and turning to face him, "and I will weep a while longer." Benedick approached, hoping to offer some comfort yet failing. Finally, he could hold back no longer.

"I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?" A great weight lifted off of Beatrice's heart, despite her grief for her cousin. It took her a minute to be sure, to confirm that he spoke true. But she was as tired of holding back as he was, and as he pulled her closer, she reached up to cup his cheek as if she had done it a million times before.

"I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest!" she half-whispered. With that, Benedick closed the last space between them and kissed her deeply, with all the love and passion long restrained poured into that single kiss.

And then, with a sudden burst of light behind their eyelids, the flashes began. _Demons and vampires, Watchers and Slayers, witches and gods and Powers That Be. He saw a council of men, all older than him, somehow making him feel like a little boy again- and returning to fight against orders, for reasons he preferred not to consider at that time. Leather pants that chafed his...legs. Family: the girl he shouldn't have kissed (no, he really shouldn't have), the man he should have trusted, and others. And the woman, the beautiful, wonderful, funny, smart woman he loved at first sight. It took so long to get to the joy- and it was so cruelly snatched away too quickly. She was trapped, trapped in a demon dimension- as far from home as a small-town Texas girl could imagine. And then she was brought back, and there was a family, a family that fought and distrusted and fought some more, but a family nonetheless. And the man, the man who saw her for everything she was and loved her for all of it, even the not-so-good- and the moment she resurfaced just to give him some small comfort._

_All the nightmares- but they weren't just nightmares anymore._

They drew apart, gazing into each other's eyes for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

"Did you-?" he whispered. She nodded, and he pulled her back to him, wrapping her so close that he had to be careful not to crush her. He buried his face in her hair as she burrowed into his shoulder- the shoulder she had clung to more often than she'd known. But then, drawing back, there were more important things to deal with. The couple shared a glance of understanding, that there were questions to answer and things to discuss, but that their friends had to take priority right now.

"As you hear of me, so think of me." With a kiss of the hand, Benedick turned to leave. But Beatrice couldn't let him leave, not quite yet.

"Wait! _Wesley_ , wait." He turned at the name he hadn't heard in so very long, a look of pure longing and love on his face as he crossed back to her in only a few steps.

"Fred. Oh, my Fred."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What we've all been waiting for: Wesley and Fred come to discover their past lives. I hope that it seems plausible to you that the pain of the memories breaking through could have led to their breakup. I think there will probably be two more chapters: a wrapping up of the Much Ado era, then an epilogue (for which I have developed some BIG plans). See you all next chapter!


	6. Reunited

"How is this even possible?" Wesley murmured into her hair. The Watcher in him took over as he pulled back, leading her to a seat so they could try to figure this out. "What's the last thing you remember, before...?" Fred's brow creased as she tried to sift through the sudden influx of memories.

"I- I'm not sure...Do you remember?"

"I was...I was dead. I died in your- sorry, Illyria's- arms, and then..." He frowned as unpleasant memories resurfaced and his accent slipped in and out. "And then that bloody contract kicked in and I was stuck working for the Senior Partners in Hell. But..." he broke off, searching, "but then, I think there was an explosion, of some sort?" Wes shook his head. "I'm not really sure. That's as far as the memories go, though. Then I was...well, this," he said, gesturing at himself. Fred leaned forward, gripping his hand.

"Wes, the last thing I remember was when you died." It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, the former Watcher's eyes widened in shock.

"But I thought..."

"So did I. In my nightmares... or I guess they were actually memories... I remember fading away, bit by bit, once she had taken over. But when you were...when you were..." Wesley took her hand reassuringly, and she continued, "Well, she...retreated. She let me come forward and be there to try to comfort you. Maybe you taught her something about compassion after all." He grinned. "Anyways, I think that was it. The grief of losing you- I think that made my...soul, or whatever, strong enough to stop fading away."

"And then?"

"And then... It's like you said, an explosion of light and white noise, and that's where the memories end." Fred shook her head, attempting to take it all in. "Not to change the subject, but we've got time to talk about this more. Shouldn't we...um..." She gestured around the house, and Wesley leapt to his feet.

"Of course, of course. Like you said," he smiled, pulling her in for a kiss and basking in the joy it brought, "we have time."

_____________________________

Wesley approached the house, searching for Fred, when he saw her up on the balcony- a sight that still made his heart sting a little at the memory of the last time they'd been on a balcony. But then they began to flirt, their wit mixing with the utter delight of a pair long doomed and finally happy. As he affectionately held her close, he teased, "Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably!" For a moment, neither spoke, realizing the truth of those words. In this life, they were always antagonistic, even as a couple their battles of wits never ceased. And in their past life, any "wooing" had taken place under circumstances that were anything but peaceful. Even their first real kiss had been under the stress of the Angelus situation, and its poor timing had quickly sent the team unraveling even further. Peace and this couple would probably never be the best of friends.

Eventually, though, talk turned to what had happened to their friends, and his challenge to Claudio. Privately, Fred thought the younger man hadn't a chance. With all his training and experience returned, Wesley was even more of a force to be reckoned with than any in their company (except Fred) could imagine. Suddenly, Ursula dashed up to beg her to come and hear the news of Hero's acquittal and Don John's flight.

"Will you go hear this news, Signor?" Fred asked, extricating herself from his arms reluctantly.

"I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes," Wes replied melodramatically. At his choice of words, both inadvertently cringed, recalling a time when that description was accurate to a tragic degree. "And moreover," he quickly added, "I will go with you to your uncle's."

_________________________________

Wesley and Fred stood opposite each other, positively beaming. Claudio and Hero had been married only moments before, and now it was their friends' turn. The newlyweds, along with Leonato, Don Pedro, and their other friends, watched gladly as the long-battling couple finally spoke their wedding vows. As the pair spoke, smiling as if sharing a very special secret, the four conspirators exchanged victorious smirks- which Wes and Fred did not fail to notice, but failed to care in the slightest. After everything, all the pain and all the obstacles that had kept them apart- even death itself- they were finally vowing to spend their lives together for what would hopefully be many, many years. Looking at his bride, Wesley felt a sudden urge to say something.

"Sorry, could I just...?" he spoke up at the first opportune pause after the vows were spoken and just before the minister proclaimed them wed. At the signal to go ahead, Wes took Fred's hands in his. Her heart sped up a little as she met his eyes, bluer and more sparkling than she'd ever seen.

"I just wanted to say... how very glad I am that we've found our way back to each other. I've loved you...since I've known you. No, that's not...I think maybe even before." At that, tears formed in Fred's eyes, and even Wes himself misted up at the memory, though still smiling. "And I cannot wait to start our life together." Cupping her face in his hands, he closed the space between them and kissed her, the pair oblivious to the last words of the minister or the cheers of their friends. All that mattered to either was the brave, wonderful, clever person next to them, and the hope for a future they never could have dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this concludes the Much Ado section of the story. I so loved Wesley's declaration of love to Fred in "A Hole in the World", so I wanted to use it here in a much happier context than the original. I hope I've woven these two stories together in a way that seems plausible and that can bring some headcanon-comfort to Fresley fans everywhere. But this isn't the end: I believe I promised you all an epic epilogue, didn't I? Let's just say I've been marathoning a couple shows lately, and there are a few things that could be addressed via the same whatever-it-is (and yes, I will make that clear) that brought Wes and Fred back. Once more, friends!
> 
> ~C


	7. Epilogue

_Several years later_

In the dark of the night, a small group of figures approached the edge of the abandoned crater.

"Is this it, Daddy?" asked a girl, standing beside her father.

"Yes, sweetheart, this is it," Wesley replied, gazing out at the crater that had once been Sunnydale. "This was Sunnydale. This is where your daddy used to work."

"And Mommy too?"

"No, Mommy and I met in LA." As Wes answered his daughter, his wife approached and took his other hand, keeping her free one resting on the shoulder of one of the twins.

"You okay?" Fred asked, noticing the melancholy that crossed her husband's face. He turned to kiss her briefly with a smile.

"Yeah. I just... You felt it too, right? I wasn't crazy?"

"Yeah, I felt it too. Something wanted us here tonight. Or maybe not." Wesley slid an arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Several years into marriage, and they still were as affectionate and appreciative of every moment as they were the day they were married. Possibly because of all they'd been through and all the terrible things that only they could understand or even speak of. Or perhaps, as Wesley liked to tease Fred in his (happily more frequent) good moods, it was just fate for them to be the most perfect couple. Suddenly, Wesley's back stiffened as he sensed another's presence. But before he could warn his family, a familiar voice cut through the starlit night.

"No...it can't be...Wes? Fred?" The pair turned around to see Angel, moving out of the shadow of a nearby tree with an incredulous expression. "It can't be you. Can it?" Fred grinned and dropped her husband's hand to approach their old friend. Although she knew, logically, he shouldn't look any older, there was a look in his eyes and a permanent crease to his features that aged him despite his immortality.

"It's us, Angel. Promise," she said tentatively. There was a pause, then a laugh and Fred's feet were no longer in contact with the ground as Angel lifted her off her feet in a warm hug.

"I'll thank you to set my wife down now, Angel," Wes commented, dryly approaching with the children. Angel obeyed and extended a handshake to the man he'd last seen as a ghost, which quickly turned into a relieved embrace.

"Well that's bloody fantastic. Stick in the mud lives." A vaguely annoyed British voice floated over, and the pair caught sight of a peroxide-blond head as Spike loped up to join the group. "But it's good to see you, love," he added, embracing Fred and acknowledging Wesley with a nod over her shoulder.

Angel stood back a moment, trying to comprehend it. "But you two- you were-"

"Yeah, we know. It's a long story," Fred answered, sharing a smile with her husband. "Wait- why are you here?"

"Dunno. Felt like I was s'posed to be. You?"

"Same."

"So it wasn't just us, then." This time, even the two vampires were startled by the new voice, a familiar female voice that approached from the trees. Four more figures came into the light. A blonde woman, flanked on either side by a petite redhaired woman and a tall man with messy dark hair and holding the hand of a girl who was not yet a teenager.

"Fred?!" called the redhead. The scientist grinned and met her halfway to wrap the witch in a hug.

"Hey, Willow. You look great!" As the girls began to talk very fast, Buffy took a few steps towards Wesley, relinquishing the girl's hand to Xander. Then, to the surprise of everyone- none more so than Wes himself- the Slayer had thrown her arms around the erstwhile Watcher, who stumbled back a step, then returned her embrace. He and Xander exchanged brusque but not unkind greetings over her shoulder.

Before any of the adults could say anything more, the girl spotted Angel and lit up.

"Angel!" she cried. Dropping Xander's hand, she barreled straight at the handsome vampire who picked her up cheerfully.

"Hey, little Slayer," he teased. Whipping out a pretend stake, she tapped him lightly over the chest. He responded by melodramatically stumbling around. "Oo, you got me! Your mom's been teaching you well!"

At Wesley's questioning look, Buffy explained quietly. "Mary's not my...y'know, my actual daughter. She's an orphan. Parents were killed in a nasty rash of vampire attacks, but she's a born Slayer. We found her when looking for survivors. She didn't even know her middle name...I gave her one...Joyce... I just...I guess I couldn't let her be alone."

"She's had plenty of help," Willow chimed in from where she and Fred had joined the conversation. Buffy smiled fondly at her daughter a few steps away. Then, noticing the other wide-eyed children, she smiled.

"What happened to being all proper and protocol-y, Wes? Aren't you going to introduce us?" she asked teasingly, nodding towards the children.

"Yes, yes, of course." As Angel approached with Mary still in tow, he slipped his hand into Buffy's. Wes noticed this gesture but refrained from saying anything, sensing it was a subject best left on its own. "This is our oldest daugher, Angela Anne." At the name, Buffy leaned slightly back into Angel, whose face was that of a man slightly shocked, but in a pleased way. "And these two," Wesley continued, gesturing at his son and younger daughter, "are the twins." Wesley choked for a moment before sharing their names. "William Rupert, and Cordelia Winifred." Tears gathered in the eyes of most parties present. Even Spike, upon hearing the boy's name, cleared his throat and looked away for a moment.

The group fell silent for a moment until Xander spoke up.

"Not to be pointing out the obvious- I suppose that's your job again, Watcher Boy-" Xander snarked, aiming a mild jab at Wesley, which somehow relaxed everyone a little. "But isn't this whole alive-again, everyone-here-at-once thing a little weird even for us?" Buffy looked distracted, apparently counting something as she glanced around the circle.

"Seven. I could've sworn..." she muttered.

"Maybe you remembered wrong, Buff. Or maybe it was just a regular old dream," Willow offered, patting her best friend's shoulder. At the others' confused glances, the witch explained, "Buffy had a really strong dream a couple nights ago, something about this place on this night, and the number eight."

"And, not counting the kids, there are only seven of us here," the Slayer finished, glancing around.

"No. There are eight." One more voice echoed out of the darkness, freezing most of the group in their tracks. Only Fred remained unchanged, not recognizing the crisp voice with the British accent as one more figure made its way towards them. He stood there for a moment as everyone stared. Then Buffy, dropping any semblance of adulthood, launched herself at her surrogate father, clinging to Rupert Giles with tears in her eyes as if she was a little girl. After giving the pair a moment, Willow and Xander latched themselves onto the pair, expanding into a long group hug. Giles carefully detached himself from the three Scoobies, with an affectionate kiss on the forehead to the girls and a clap on the shoulder for Xander.

Angel approached, guilty and horrified and unable to meet the eyes of the wise, kind man he'd killed while possessed. "Giles, I-" he began before choking off. The Watcher looked at him for a long moment, then placed a reassuring hand on the tormented vampire's shoulder.

"You're forgiven," he said simply. The men shared a look, and then the group re-formed to include the second Watcher, who was busy greeting his onetime fellow and meeting Fred. "Now," he said briskly, "I confess, I too am a bit perplexed as to how this can be. By all accounts, you two," he gestured at Wesley and Fred, "died rather nasty deaths many years ago. I myself should not, strictly speaking, be alive. And yet no one seems to have any negative side effects? No lapses in behavior indicative of possession? No changes whatsoever?" Everyone shook their heads. Giles pulled off his glasses, rubbing habitually at the lenses. "Well, then, I must confess myself at a loss."

"The only thing I can think of," Xander piped up, "Maybe the Powers That Be finally got off their all-powerful asses and actually did something for a change." Giles replaced his glasses to fix the man in his stare.

"That would explain the...well, normalcy of the returned lives. Xander does have a point," he admitted.

"But why us? Why now? Do you think anyone else might be...?" Willow began. This time, Giles shook his head in the negative.

"I'm afraid not. Buffy said she had a premonition of eight, correct?" Buffy nodded affirmatively. "So I don't think anyone else. I'm sorry- no Tara, no Anya," he apologized, looking from Willow to Xander, who linked hands briefly in a comforting squeeze.

"Cordy? Or...?" Buffy began. Giles gravely shook his head again.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. Not your mother either. Or..." He hurried began polishing his glasses again, turning to hide his face briefly.

"Or Jenny," Buffy finished gently. She looked around at her gathered friends. "So what now? Why us?"

"I can only assume that there is something else coming, that the world still needs defending. And if the Powers That Be are indeed the source of this...well, let's call it what it is, miracle- then I presume they chose what they believed would be the best team possible while tampering with life and death minimally." At this, everyone gathered had to smile, that their band of messed-up misfits was deemed the best hope for defending the world against evil.

Wesley and Fred, Angel and Buffy looked at the children of the group, watching their parents and friends with bright, curious, and unafraid eyes. It was up to them to make a safer world for their children. And as much as all of them wanted their children out of harm's way, fighting the good fight was in their blood. If they were going to have to fight, better that it be well-trained and alongside people who they could trust.

"So what now?" Angel asked, still keeping Buffy and Mary close to him. Instinctively, the others all looked at Buffy. She traded glances with each of them in turn, ending with Giles and Angel. Finally, she spoke.

"Let's get to work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the extended epilogue I've been promising! It takes place post-canon for all mediums (hence the inclusion of Giles's death from the comic books) and thus contradicts nothing. This story started out just as an idea for a Fresley fic, but I realized quickly that there were other bits and pieces of the Buffy-verse that could be made less heartbreaking via the same methods. Apologies to readers who ship Spike with Buffy; I'm an Angel/Buffy girl all the way! I wanted to end it with the same line that ended the Buffy-verse on TV, but with a more hopeful outlook, full of potential for the future of this reunited and now expanded family.
> 
> I want to thank you all for coming with me on this little journey. I hope I have done justice to Joss Whedon's wonderful characters and to the story that exists already. Even more, I hope that you have all enjoyed reading the story and that it seems a plausible extension of this universe. Special thanks must go to mossomness and A Hole in the World over at FF for reviewing all along the way, as well as to the kind folks at fuckyeahfresley over on Tumblr, who have been lovely enough to promote this story a few times. Thank you all for reading and following.
> 
> ~C


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